


now you see me

by oddishly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 00:44:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam likes them to kiss with their eyes open.</p>
            </blockquote>





	now you see me

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to ordinaryink for reassuring me of readability! and for volunteering to tell me where to end each and every fic I ever write in future. <3

Sam likes them to kiss with their eyes open. He makes a thing of it when Dean is distracted into forgetting, or relaxes into forgetting, or doesn't forget at all but wants to make a point.

"What point?" mutters Sam against his mouth. They're in a parking lot, a busy one, because Sam also likes it when they kiss in public. Close to a wall, because you never know when you might want to move it to a wall. That one's all Dean. "Open your eyes."

"The point that sometimes I want to keep my eyes closed," says Dean, eyes closed. "And that you're not in charge." He feels his way up Sam's chest, lingering in all the places he feels like lingering and craning his neck up to press their mouths together again. Sam kisses back grumpily. Only Sam could put so much attention into communicating his sulk through a kiss.

Dean lets Sam bow him back into the car door and hold him there, hands tight on his upper arms, feet bracketing him in, body hard against him. They spend a lot of time like this, although usually it's a nicer car. Dean's nicer car, his girl, utterly accustomed to having bodies slammed up against her. Even bodies that don't belong to Dean or his brother, although that hasn't happened in a long time and Dean wouldn't recommend anyone (or anything) try getting near him with Sam in the vicinity. Unless it's to watch. Then it's fine. Usually.

When they stop for breath, Dean says, "I'm not going to forget it's you."

"I know," says Sam. "I'm unforgettable."

Dean makes a grab for Sam's cock.

"See?" says Sam.

Dean thinks about letting go then decides that's the kind of thing that gets you painted for a fool. He squeezes instead, enjoying a good long feel under cover of Sam's own body. Dean is very fond of his brother's cock. It's good and receptive, for one thing, like all cocks are, and for another it's a fucking perfect fit in Dean's ass. You don't meet a cock like that every day. Dean thinks that deserves rewarding. He opens his eyes and rubs harder.

Sam makes a pleased noise and rocks into it, ducking his head to kiss Dean again, lips curving up against his mouth. It screws with the kiss but Dean likes the feel of it anyway and smiles back, like he's the girl in the relationship now.

Someone honks driving by and Dean drops the smile. He flips the driver off without looking or losing his focus on Sam's mouth or stilling his other hand on Sam's cock, because Dean's a fucking awesome multitasker. There isn't room to do more than push and squeeze with Sam pressed up all hot and close against him, but Sam seems to be enjoying himself just fine, and the extra attention hasn't hurt any. His fingers are tighter on Dean, cock harder, and Sam's always been into making out in public places but the Purgatory thing has ramped that up some more.

"My little exhibitionist," says Dean between kisses. Sam's eyes widen and Dean pulls back to smirk at him. He fits his fingers into a cup around the shape of Sam's cock, toying with the idea of wiggling his hand inside Sam's pants and doing the thing properly. "There anywhere you wouldn't let me do this?"

"Let you," mutters Sam. He pushes into Dean's hand and stays there, thigh pressed against Dean's cock, stopping Dean from moving anything but the very tips of his fingers. He traps Dean's other hand against the car and places his own flat on the glass beside Dean's head. 

Fuck. The first time they made out in a parking lot, Dean had half a head and forty pounds on Sam. Now he's twice the size of Dean and most of everyone else on the planet. That doesn't stop being surprising.

Sam's thigh is putting a nice pressure on his cock but Dean doesn't feel like getting arrested today so that's all the action it's going to be seeing. He orders himself to still his fingers on Sam and is mostly successful, and raises his eyebrows when Sam shows no sign of stopping, or moving away. He clears his throat. "Thought we were here to scare your cashier into talking?"

"Whose car do you think this is?"

Dean looks down, eying the racing stripes adorning the paintwork, and allows it. The cashier does seem the type. 

"He's not going anywhere without us knowing about it. Kiss me again."

Dean leans up and kisses him again.

"Eyes open," whispers Sam when Dean pulls back.

Dean opens his eyes. Sam takes up everything but the very edges of his vision, but he can work with that. A middle-aged man is watching them from the meter but it's not the cashier, and four cars over a pair of girls are switching between whispers and giggling but neither has a camera phone directed their way. No cashier to be seen, so Dean returns his attention to Sam. "We're good." 

Sam makes a face at him. "That's not the reason," he says, and just like that, has their positioned reversed, his own back against the car, Dean on the outside facing the wall. Dean sways for a moment before catching up with events and yanking his hand out from between them. 

"Killjoy," says Sam. He actually looks disappointed, glancing around at all the people with nothing better to do than watch.

"You want to talk to this guy here or from the wrong side of your cell?" Dean demands. "Because I don't think he's going to be up for a trip to the station with us."

"Like I said," says Sam, dimpling at Dean like that's going to make a cell look better from the inside.

Dean lets himself be kissed anyway. So maybe the dimples would improve his cell's decor. He's not going to tell Sam that. He keeps Sam's eye, trying to decide if he feels exposed until Sam hauls him close again. Then he's too busy reminding himself to breathe, head tipped down for a change with Sam slouched low against the car door. 

Sam is holding him so tight that his lungs won't expand all the way, which is going to become a problem any second. His eyes are dark, the pupils blown from what Dean can see of them, and he's still hard against Dean's leg. Dean doesn't mind that, it's pretty fucking flattering, and if they didn't have a grave to find by sunset he might have let Sam continue rubbing off on him, audience be damned. Or invited, in Sam's case. 

Dean pulls back right before running out of oxygen. It's not such a hardship, Sam's still the best thing to see in all the state and he's right there, taking up twice the space of a normal man, trapping Dean between his legs. Dean stays exactly where he is and looks.

Sam is impatient. He tugs Dean back in after what Dean guesses is an attempt to count to thirty in his head, this time moving one of his hands to the back of Dean's neck to keep him close.

"Seriously," Dean mumbles at him, palms flat on his chest. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sam leaves his hand where it is, fingers locking into Dean's hair. "Yeah," he says. "Don't forget that, either."


End file.
